


So an Angel and a Demon Walk into a Brothel

by ratherbeblue (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harlots (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Georgian Period, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 06:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ratherbeblue
Summary: “Walking around this house, dressed like that, people might get the wrong idea…”Aziraphale was more unfazed than seemed absolutely fair to the demon.“I could say the same to you my dear.” She whispered back.





	So an Angel and a Demon Walk into a Brothel

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no knowledge of Harlots is necessary to understand this, but it's a good show please watch it.

“Crowley? Crowley, my dear, is that you?”

A sweet female voice pricked at the demon Crowley’s ears as she made her way through the London marketplace. If not for the term of endearment she would have kept walking, thinking it a terrible coincidence, but there was no mistaking her friend then, even if it is most unusual to see Aziraphale take on such a form.

She turned, her eyes behind dark glass circles easily finding the one who had called her. A shorter and wider woman, wearing neatly kept religious garb, hair kept out of sight in modesty though there was no hope for hiding the radiant beauty of her unpainted face.

Crowley’s heart pounded against the stiff confines of her stays. This form was actually pretty close to Aziraphale’s default state and yet, or perhaps because of this, she found herself immediately taken with her.

“Aziraphale.” She stated, hoping any added breathiness could be attributed to her new change of form as well.

“I thought that was you, whatever are you doing here?”

Aziraphale looked at her expectantly, it had been a while since they started their arrangement, but it’s not like every single job they do gets done through it. Only the ones that were far away, outside of London and usually somewhere damp and unpleasant. Besides, and it’s not lie Crowley would ever want to admit this to Aziraphale, sometimes she liked to walk around her own city as a new person.

“Same as you I suppose. You know I like to do the local ones myself.” Crowley gave her, not wanting to show all her cards and wanting a little out of the angel all the same.

She nodded, darting her eyes up to meet Crowley’s.

“If you must know, I’m here for a girl, a-a harlot and a thief, her name’s Violet Cross.” A small smile bloomed across Aziraphale’s plush pink lips. “I’m to bring her to salvation.”

Crowley willed herself to look away from those lips, lest her wild running thoughts get the best of her.

“Yeah, I’m here about a girl too, _not_ a harlot. One of your lot actually, Amelia Scanwell, supposed to make her stray from her _righteous path_.” She said the last words with a satirical tongue, baiting intentionally.

Aziraphale’s mouth opened slightly, a condemnation on the edge of her tongue before she thought better of it.

“And the, um, get up?” She tried instead, gesturing to the salacious black and red gown Crowley was swathed in at the moment.

Crowley cocked a pannier padded hip in response.

“Haven’t you heard, angel? There’s a masquerade on tonight, everyone will be dressed as some dark decadent thing. The Scanwell girl won’t know what hit her when she’s tempted by the actual devil.”

Suddenly a delicate mask of black lace, horns curling up at either side, appeared in her long thin hands. She flashed it in front of her face for dramatic effect, showing off the semi-sheer eye coverings that would surely make anything unnatural about her eyes seem like a trick of the light.

An uneasy giggle bubbled up in Aziraphale’s throat, but she was quick to recover.

“Oh certainly, my dear, and once my Miss Violet has seen the light she will no doubt show her her way back again.”

Crowley allowed herself a small satisfied smirk, glad that her love-softened eyes were hidden from her friend.

“May the best woman win then.”

…

The masquerade was a disaster.

Crowley had spent all evening prowling the streets of Soho, trying to catch the Scanwell girl alone without any luck, her mother always lurking close by. Scowling and cursing the retched streets she decided to at least make the most of her night out, _can’t let the outfit go to waste after all_ , she told herself.

She could feel eyes following her as she made her way around the Greek Street house, men’s dripping with lust, women’s with envy. Two birds, one stone, even if not the birds she had originally set out to catch.

Her red painted lips quirked up in satisfaction as she poured herself a small glass of port, she had no way of knowing how Aziraphale’s night was going, but she would give herself at least one point for her efforts here.

Almost lost in her own thought, Crowley made her way around the house lazily, appreciating the heavy weight of sin in the air, though not a huge fan of all the gauche debauchery happening in plain sight. Really, the goat was a bit much.

Then, very suddenly, a feathered mask caught Crowley’s eye as she turned the corner and she quickly did a double take at the sight of angelic wings framing beautiful sky blue eyes.

She was a vision in white and gold. A cloud of fashionable white blonde hair formed a gorgeous halo around her head and the bodice of the dress she was wearing hugged her buxom form tightly, pushing her amble bosom up and round hips, accentuated by padding, out where a full skirt gathered and fell around her lower half. That being said, the dress was fairly modest. Modest enough that an average person wouldn’t immediately think harlot, but with the dress paired with Aziraphale’s beauty, not to mention the location, had men’s eyes trailing after her in ask of something.

Something hot and angry flared up within Crowley at the sight, and she made her way over to her angel’s side as quickly as possible without arousing attention or suspicion. Saddling up to her side she put her lips close to the shell of Aziraphale’s ear, hissing into it.

“Walking around this house, dressed like that, people might get the wrong idea…”

Aziraphale was more unfazed than seemed absolutely fair to the demon.

“I could say the same to you my dear.” She whispered back, eyes still scanning the crowded rooms for something. “I thought it might be easier to catch the eye of a harlot dressed as one.”

Crowley crowded her against the nearby wall, making the angel blush suddenly and violently. Crowley tilted her head, a hand coming up to caress one of the stiff white feathers on Aziraphale’s mask, making her eyes widen and dart towards the gentle touch.

“Well I think you missed the mark a bit if that’s what you’re going for, angel.” Crowley took stock of the surprising reaction she had pulled from her friend, deciding in for a penny in for a pound, she moved her hand down, caressing the cheekbone below the mask, forcing herself not to shake in her own anticipation. “Try as you might, you still look as pure as virgin snow.”

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath which Crowley felt, warm and lovely against her neck. Then she spoke.

“If you don’t kiss me right now I’ll-”

The threatening words went unspoken as they melted into Crowley’s mouth. All thoughts of work, corruptions, blessings, anything other than each other fell away, crumbling under entwined tongues and gnashing teeth. They were both hungrier for this than they thought imaginable.

They parted, panting and grasping at each other’s covered bodies. Crowley noticed that Aziraphale’s lips were now red with her own stain and the sight nearly did her in.

Achy and shaking and wanting more all she could do was let out one word.

“Bed?”

Aziraphale nodded frantically and then, quicker than should have been possible, they find themselves in a miraculously empty bedroom.

Crowley makes quick work of her own clothing, shrugging off dress and stepping out of skirts, she pulls on the front lacing of her stays, freeing herself until she’s down to chemise and stockings.

Aziraphale is still slipping out of her robe, pannier and skirts pooled around her ankles when Crowley steps behind her. She helps ease off the silk garment and runs a hand down her front, feeling her chest heave within it’s confines and taking pity on her by releasing the tight lacing on the back of her stays with the other.

The angel let out a gasp of pleasure and release as the stays fell to the ground, quickly turning it into a squeak as Crowley pushed her to lay on the plush bed.

There, she held her breath for a moment as Crowley did the same, taking her all in. Blonde-white hair in slight disarray, red stained mouth, in a pure white chemise, matching stockings, and bloomers.

Crowley pushed her hands underneath the garments, reaching for the lacings.

“Now, a real harlot would never bother with these.” She said, making quick work of the lacy bloomers, pulling them off and out of their way, leaving Aziraphale just as bare as herself.

“Perhaps I just wanted someone to unwrap me.” She responded, the coquettishness of the delivery undermined by the challenging quirk on an eyebrow.

“And unwrap you I have, look at you, all thrown about and unlaced, in a bawdy house and in bed with a demon no less.” Crowley traced a finger across the low neckline of the thin white chemise, pulling it just so to let one of Aziraphale’s full breasts free, winning a breathless gasp from the angel. “You look positively wretched, angel.”

“Crowley!” She whined, throwing her head back, uncaring that she was missing the pillows by miles. “Please.”

“What? Tell me what you need.” Crowley challenged, freeing her other breast, taking each as a more than a generous handful, tormenting her with warm, long fingered hands.

“Ruin me.” She said, a challenge of her own in her storm grey eyes.

Crowley felt herself nearly falter, nearly pass out cold at the sheer amount of arousal that coursed through her body hearing that from her angel. Instead she used it, used that fire in her belly to rip off her own chemise and in nearly the same instance ruck up Aziraphale’s around her waist, leaving the lower half of her soft, gorgeous body bare.

Crowley’s hands and mouth moved quickly, covering her neck and chest in warm wanton kisses, and pulling her plush, yielding thighs up to bracket her own thin hips. Crowley was insatiable in her hunger and could go on, just touching and kissing Aziraphale’s body forever, but that’s not what she was asked to do.

Instead she finally lets up, moving one hand down from the warm, heavy breast it was massaging, past the soft stomach and sensitive hip, leaving Aziraphale whimpering in anticipation in it’s wake. She presses, with the full meat of her hand, against the lovely next of blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, giving Aziraphale something to mindlessly rut against before slipping her fingers down.

She takes a moment to admire, spreading the fat, flushed, lips and putting her dripping core on display, an act of depravity of her own making.

Aziraphale gasps at the attention, at a loss of what to do but lay there and take it.

“Oh lovely, your quim’s dripping for me. Can’t you feel it, angel, how easily I could slip my fingers into you? You’re so ready for it, so ready to be taken in by the devil. That’s all right, love, just let go.”

Crowley, making good on her word, took the opportunity to slide two fingers inside the angel, letting her thumb rest against the swollen nub peaking out shamelessly. She was tight, of course, but her arousal made it an easy fit for Crowley to curl her long fingers up, caressing the swollen insides of her body, reaching for the spot that would make her lose all semblance of composure.

“Yessss.” Aziraphale hissed in a fashion very unlike herself. “Ah, please, more.”

Crowley glanced up at her, she was holding her own breasts now, kneading them gently, thumbs against her taut nipples, and the sight drove her mad.

“As you wish.” She said, mouth dripping.

Crowley adjusted herself, straddling one thigh, pressing it to her own heat and making Aziraphale gasp, and changing the angle so another finger could be pushed in.

The increased pressure around her fingers made her just as crazy for it as the angel was and she increased her speed as well, pushing and pulling mercilessly into Aziraphale while she rutted against her thigh, taking her own pleasure as well.

Neither lasted long, Crowley allowing the friction of warm flesh against her own overcome her almost immediately as she held on for the sake of Aziraphale, who was pushing back against her hand like a madwoman, faster and faster as she got louder and louder in her moaning and gasping.

Finally, with a final push, she was shaking and gushing around Crowley’s fingers, tiny spasms causing more friction and increasing the pleasure within her spent walls.

“Nnggh.” She tried to speak, the could-be-words coming out as more of a garbled moan.

Crowley consoled her, pushing a clean hand through her soft hair and moving herself up to wrap around her love.

“Shh… it’s alright, angel. Take your time.”

…

Later, while taking a stroll around the streets of Soho, completely lost in their own world, a sight caught both Crowley and Aziraphale’s eyes.

A pious looking woman being pushed up against a wall by a lady in a well fitting purple gown.

“Well, looks like they got along well enough on their own.”

“Quite.”


End file.
